


You got a hold of me the whole damn night

by Queerapika



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 04:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16674388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerapika/pseuds/Queerapika
Summary: Written for the prompt "kisses in the dark"in which Leorio and Kurapika enjoy some down time on Whale Island. Leorio suggests stargazing, although it's not the stars he wants to gaze at, per se.(Set post-Dark Continent although it's not that important. No spoilers for the current story arc.)





	You got a hold of me the whole damn night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zenelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenelly/gifts).



> What day is it? That's right, it's zene's birthday! I hope this is sweet and domestic in all the right ways.
> 
> The title is from Gimmie Love by CRJ. A big shoutout goes to Eddy/bugtongue for betaing last minute. You're a real champ!

In the darkness, they shed their pretenses.

When there are no eyes on him, Leorio can finally breathe. Here, he has nothing to prove, no one to impress. Not even Kurapika, who lies beside him every night, so close that their arms touch. Sure, Leorio could try - but they know each other too well and Kurapika is not easily impressed. Too smart for his own good. Too intent on teasing to indulge Leorio for even one moment.

It's not an awful feeling, to be known.

In the darkness, Kurapika grows brave enough to allow himself an ounce of selfishness. Stolen away to Whale Island by his friends, his mission to retrieve his family's eyes rests deeply buried inside him, delayed but not forgotten. He allows himself to want things, even if it's just for the duration of their stay.

 

It's Leorio's idea to go stargazing - just the two of them, some blankets, fruits and a bottle of white wine. No kids, no responsibilities... and most importantly, no suspiciously creaking mattress. Their fingers are intertwined as they struggle through the underbrush of Whale Island's jungle-like forest, although Leorio does most of the struggling - too many branches and vines hang right at level with his face. By the time they arrive at the clearing, his forearms are marked with scratches.

"This reminds me of when we were stuck with each other during the hunter's exam, trying to track down these damn badges," Leorio remarks, almost nostalgically.

"You mean when you let yourself be fooled by Tonpa and I was generous enough to help you?", Kurapika needles. "Because that's how I remember it."

"Oh, come on, you needed me as much as I needed you. If you had been own your own, you wouldn't have gotten a single night of sleep." Leorio lets go of Kurapika's hand and starts to roll out the blankets. He folds up a second blanket into a long, makeshift pillow, something to rest their heads upon when they grow tired.

"Talking about sleep... is it safe to stay here?" Kurapika takes in the noises of the jungle. Monkeys scream, birds cluck and caw, and every now and then they hear the roar of a larger predator. He is not afraid, but he is not ignorant to these things either.

"Kurapika," Leorio says slowly. "I doubt that anything in this forest is more dangerous than you. Besides-" With a flick of his wrist, a knife appears in Leorio's hand, shimmering like an oil spill. He lets the blade dance around his fingers, faster and faster until it becomes a blur. And then, from one blink to another, it disappears again. "I came prepared."

With a flourish of his hand, Leorio bows.

"You've been practising."

"Impressive, huh?", Leorio says, raising his head high in expectancy of praise.

"What's impressive is the amount of scars you wear on your hands these days. Are you sure that these little street pickpocket tricks are worth risking the dexterity of your fingers? You're about to be a doctor. If you cut deep enough to hit a muscle-"

"For fucks sake, Kurapika, do you have to mock me for everything? Can't you just say 'hey, sweet knife tricks' and leave it at that, just once?"

"I wasn't mocking-"

"Yes, you were," Leorio snaps and sits his ass down on the blankets. He pulls his legs close to his chest and decidedly does not look at Kurapika. Sulking. Except, no, sulking is a term reserved for trivial matters and there's nothing trivial about Leorio's hurt.

Kurapika finds himself at a loss. "Leorio, I'm sorry, I thought-" He kneels beside his friend, his partner, and gingerly places his hand on Leorio's arm, afraid that the other is going to flinch from his touch. He doesn't. "You know that I am glad to have you by my side, right? I... missed this. I missed our bickering and your hopeless attempts to show off and... I guess I don't always realize if I go too far?"

Leorio's mouth is a lopsided curve. "No, that's not-" But the rest of the sentence is replaced by a frustrated groan as he hangs his head between his knees. When it emerges again, Leorio's eyes seek Kurapika's and he worries his lip. "Look, every now and then I just wanna be the cool boyfriend? Like, you got wicked skills and you're eloquent and brilliant and sometimes you're legit scary? I mean, not that I'm scared of you, but you can put the fear in people's eyes. And sometimes I feel like I just can't keep up with that."

A breeze from the sea stirs Kurapika's hair. It carries the scent of brine and salt, which mingles with the sweet yet heavy aroma of wild jasmine, whose white flowers can be spotted all around the island. 

Kurapika holds on tighter to Leorio.

"Leorio, you don't need to 'keep up' with me. I assure you that you following my footsteps is the last thing I want. What I appreciate about you is not your education or your knife skills or your fancy suits. I choose to be with you because despite all the things you've been through, you still believe that you can make the world a better place. You preserved your kindness, even if it was hard. Things don't come easy to you, but you still achieve your goals because you're earnest and hard-working. I tease you because you're dear to me and so you don't get too cocky, but I know you're capable. I really do."

Kurapika takes Leorio's hand and raises it to his lips, pressing a single kiss on its knuckles.

"But please stop playing with knives. I mean it."

He hates these new scars, hates to see Leorio hurt at all. And sure, there is no small amount of hypocrisy in that, considering the danger Kurapika puts himself in to reach his goals. But Leorio doesn't deserve any of that. He should be kept far, far away from Kurapika's business and if Leorio wasn't so damn stubborn, he would be. But then they wouldn't have moments like this.

Leorio's voice drops to a hoarse whisper.

"Sorry for yelling at you."

"You were upset," Kurapika says and leans against Leorio's larger frame. "And I wasn't put off by it."

"So we're good?"

"Yes," Kurapika agrees, fondly. "We're good."

 

They fool around as they wait for night to settle around them. Leorio talks Kurapika into tossing grapes at his face, which he tries to catch with his mouth - a task that is complicated by the fact that Kurapika loves to aim at his eyes. The wine is passed slowly between them, until it warms their cheeks and unwinds the tension of their shoulders, and then it is forgotten as Leorio grows bold enough to tug at Kurapika's waistband.

He gets a light slap on the hand for that. Well deserved, one may add. "We're here for the stars," Kurapika says, putting too much emphasis on the last word to be serious.

"The stars ain't half as pretty as you," Leorio purrs.

"It was your idea," Kurapika teases. But with the wine humming through his blood, his skin grows too hot under his clothes. He tosses his tabard aside, enjoying the wolf-whistle that it earns him. And he finds that he doesn't mind the way Leorio crawls over to him on all fours, with the most impish grin on his face. Kurapika even leans back a little, inviting that playful prowl.

"Wanna know a secret?", Leorio asks, his face mere inches apart from Kurapika's.

"Sure."

"I know jack shit about stars."

Kurapika snorts because of course Leorio wouldn't know. He wouldn't need them for guidance, not when he had streets to take him home and without a very rational purpose, studying the stars is a task for those who have time to spare.

"Lucky for you, I know a lot about stars. I'll gladly show you."

"I'm sure that's not the only thing you could show me," Leorio suggests, with an unmistakable glint in his eyes.

"I suppose not. But how about we save that for later, hm?"

"You're mean," Leorio whines and nuzzles his face in the crook of Kurapika's neck.

"The meanest," Kurapika agrees and tilts his head to give his boyfriend's lips a better angle to explore. They travel up his neck, to the tender spot beneath his ear, lingering there. Kurapika is almost swayed when Leorio blows gently against his heated skin - the key word being almost. "How lucky I am to have such a forgiving and patient boyfriend. Isn't that right?"

Leorio backs off a little. Squints at Kurapika as he weighs his ego against his desires. He knows it's a trap but Leorio wouldn't be Leorio if he didn't fall for it regardless. "Patient, eh?"

"We have all night, love," Kurapika whispers. The endearment does not fail its purpose. Leorio's eyes grow mellow and with a sigh he says: "That we do." He rolls off Kurapika, onto his back. "Alright. Hit me with those star tales."

The shapes of the stars, as Kurapika knows them and as they have been taught to him years ago, are unique to his tribe. He knows this. He makes sure that Leorio understands this too.

There is Rani, the empress of crops, the great accountant, who counts the fruits of every harvest and expects her fair share of it - and woe to them who try to cheat her. A spiral in the eastern sky represents Mikka, the one who spins the thread of time. Sometimes he takes the shape of an old man, bent with age, at other times he is a caterpillar half-buried in a chrysalis. But the thread of time is coarse and dense and wears on Mikka's hands until they bleed. And where his blood dyes the yarn, a great tragedy strikes. 

And this constellation is the footprint of the mother of birds, left when she descended from the heavens to save the Kurta from certain death, for her heart is both fearless and kind. On her back they escaped prosecution and bigotry, and her children and children's children carry - carried - the Kurta still.

There was also Marno, the adventurer, who courted danger and mocked death and was punished for his arrogance with eternal life. A thousand deaths he has died, one more foolish than the other. Bound to taste pain, but never relief.

"Foolish how?", Leorio whispers against Kurapika's hair, his lips brushing against Kurapika's temple. He holds his boyfriend, but not too tight. 

"Foolish as in careless. Embarrassing accidents. Most of his deaths were a result of hubris, like when he tried to climb a sacred mountain that stretched into the skies, only to slip and roll back to the base where he lay for six days and six nights, his limbs and spine broken."

"Ouch. Why was he lying there for so long? If he couldn't die, he'd had to recover at some point, didn't he?"

"Yes, but death sent its vultures to pick at his bones and feed on his marrow."

"That seems unnecessarily cruel."

"It was," Kurapika agrees. "Because it was just the kind of tale that was meant to make us afraid, to teach us that nothing good ever came from venturing out into the outside world. In each tale, Marno is visited by a member of his family, or one of his friends and each visitor speaks a warning that he does not heed. The more callous Marno's response, the more gruesome his death."

He pauses. "My mother never liked these stories. She called them propaganda."

"Smart woman."

"She was." Kurapika rolls over with a sigh and rests his head on Leorio's shoulder. "She never liked these kind of stories but she knew them all. She soaked up every tale that she could find, pulling them from people's lips and when they did not satisfy, she made her own. Stories about flowers that grew keys in them and trees that grow doors - stories about rabbits that turned into girls to hunt the predators that tried to hunt them. Spirits that shifted from shape to shape, trying to find the one that feels right. I... I think it was her way of explaining herself, too. And I remember her making up new constellations, just to tease my father. My father was the closest thing to a cartographer our tribe had, although he never set a foot outside our forest. He mapped everything, the stars, the forest, he knew every mushroom and berry that grew around our village, the good ones and the bitter ones, the poisonous ones. He taught all the kids how to tell them apart. He taught me how to use the spiral shape of Mikka's cocoon to find my way back home, should I get lost."

A sigh, then Kurapika falls very quiet. 

"You're trembling," Leorio remarks and holds him a little tighter. 

"I'm cold," Kurapika says, curling up against his boyfriend's chest. It's bullshit, of course it is and from the way Leorio blows air through his nose, he isn't buying it for one second. Still, he offers to keep Kurapika warm. His large hands rub over Kurapika's arms and back as if they were stranded on a cold, snow-covered mountain and not smack in the middle of a tropical island. 

"Better?", Leorio asks, planting a kiss on Kurapika's forehead.

"Almost." Kurapika makes a pensive noise and buries his hands in the front of his boyfriend's shirt. "I think... I think there should be more of you, covering more of me.  
  
  


In the darkness, they shed their clothes, as well as their pretenses. In the darkness, they can not see each other's scars and yet Leorio's lips find the marks on Kurapika's skin without fail. The new and the old ones, red and white. Some in plain sight, others in vulnerable spots that make Kurapika gasp when an attentive tongue traces them. 

Leorio knows them all.

In the darkness, there are no obligations but the desperate attention they reserve for each other, the gentle pull of lips against lips, the squirming need to hold and to be held, the sticky heat that rises between them. Kurapika keeps his eyes desperately shut, to keep the red glow from spilling through his lids. Unseeing, unseen. He opens to his lover's touch, eases into this slow-burning tension until his toes curl and his back arches.

And then Leorio does something particularly clever and Kurapika's eyes fly open as he gasps and chokes on all that he wants, needs. His irises are twin stars that make skies overhead seem pale in comparison, but their light only shines towards one destination.

"I want-", he says but cannot finish because there is a whole world of things he wants. He shoves Leorio and uses the momentum to roll himself on top of his lover, his friend, pinning Leorio in place so he can claim him.

The mother of birds hides her beak in her plumage, not caring about the noisy quarrel of human lovers. 

The adventurer trips and dies another time, embarrassed. 

The thread of time spins through Mikka's hands and for once, its coarseness does not draw a single drop of blood.


End file.
